Today

I remember little said in grief;

Words released like flares into darkness,

hot and bright and momentary,

no after-image. 

But to joys are raised statues,

temples, towers,

the palaces of memory overflow with laughter, 

even in the ruins.

I walked among them in the sunshine,

trailing tender fingertips along the walls,

palisades well loved and wandered,

happy for the company.

There is a new grotto,

with a still deep pool, 

cool shadows and bright flashes, 

things that are, and will not be. 

I will come here again,

when I have been too alone, 

to sit with the truth, 

 beautiful and untenable as the koi.

I will not make a wish.

Fitting in with the Family

Now that some sleep has been acquired (by basically everyone BUT myself) everyone is significantly more cheerful and calmer. Except me, who continues to be calm and extremely groggy. But, I spent the morning working for my dad over at the WAY program. Look at all the organizing I did!!

I even put the things on the top shelf on the top shelf. WITHOUT a stool or ladder, thank you!

I would like to note- this is the room I spent 12 years learning how to tap dance in.  Nostalgia for the win!

There's himself, unimpressed and wielding a power tool.

So after a morning of shoving dusty books around for Dad, there was an afternoon spent lazing about with the cat and running a quick errand. Now, how do I know I'm in America? Because our grocery store is better stocked than the Mill Bay liquor store. 

Captain Crunch and Captain Morgan's. One Stop Shopping.

Then a quick shopping trip with this crazy. 

My sister. No relation.

And together we enjoyed some spatial irony, though we did not in fact find a swimsuit that fits me. 

Burger joint, plus sized clothing store, weight watchers. A story in three stores.

After we got home, my impatient boor of a pater familius decided that we were going to go to Appleknockers for ice cream without my mother. I rolled my eyes, but to no avail. Away we went. I need to mention that this ice cream is out of this world- carrot cake flavour for my sister (it tasted like glory and had bits of cake IN THE ICE CREAM) and a banana pudding ice cream sundae for me. If I didn't have such important things like blogging to do, I would have died from the sheer joy of that sundae. Instead, I charmed a stranger into taking photos. 

Silly creatures. 

Some quiet time at home to reflect leaves me feeling a little melancholy. I find myself reaching for my phone to take a picture or send a text to island friends and have to remind myself that I can't, they are far away, we will have to laugh about it later. And when I'm on the island, I feel this way about the people here. I am truly torn between two ways of life, and there are no simple answers. In fact, at the moment, I feel as though there are simply no answers for anything right now except to keep going and enjoy what I have when I have it. Its an anxious way to live sometimes, but its what I've got. 

People ask me what I miss about Michigan. I miss this. 

I miss the long open country roads, tunnels of old elms and oaks, blue skies and grain fields edged with potatoes or green beans or soy. I miss the smell of the summer in the country, the way the land rolls gently, heritage homes as old as the county, the dappled sunlight and the amber dusk.  I miss the way that my breath knows I am home. I miss the way that my heartbeat slows, driving the back roads in the evening, in a way that I wish I could drive them forever. That would be my heaven. 

When Naps Attack

You don't realize just how much you sleep on your left side until you can't sleep on your left side any longer. Guess which side I have discovered I primarily sleep on?

We got home at 2:30 AM. After a great deal of tossing, turning, and wincing, I managed to find a position with my arm crooked under my head to sleep in, and passed out until morning-10:00 local time, 7:00 island time. Three hour time difference is a bitch. But, I got to have some quiet down time with both my father and my mother separately, which is often preferable to the talking over each other and bad-tempered sniping that happens when no one in the house has slept much. Let me put my family in perspective for you; I am the quiet, patient one. I'll let you dwell on that a moment.

You heard me boys.

A refreshing shower and some clean clothes later I was feeling human enough to have lunch with the love of my life. 

Meet Dan Fryling: patriarch of the Fryling family, the smartest, most handsome, cleverest, almost tallest (I think you have maybe an inch on him Addison) strongest, handiest, best man in the whole world. He also just happens to be my grandfather. 

No one resists that smile. NO ONE. 

Over lunch and small talk we assured ourselves that the other one is doing ok and that we continue to adore the living daylights out of one another. I don't think its always possible to convey depth of feeling in words, but if I am compelled to try, I would say that the love I have for my grandfather and that he has for me surpasses all doubt and consequence. No power in the 'verse could stop it, and in the entirety of my life he has only been angry with me twice. They were short lived but memorable experiences. I am lucky enough to have his eyes, his ability to build and improvise, and his temperment. If only I had inherited the height as well...

Oh well. I would be unstoppable if I were tall, let the world count it's blessings. 

After a quick visit to the optometry where my mother works to say hello to the Doc (my mother's best friend and my mentor/rival/third parent) and Vicki, I moseyed home for a bit of a rest. Walking the streets of my home town again is the closest I can come to time travel, and I always find it sweetly nostalgic. It's not true what they say- you can always go home. 

I told myself it would only be an hour's nap. I would feel better, I could unpack, get some work done. I lay my weary head to rest at 3 in the afternoon. 

My mother shook me awake at 7 in the evening wondering if I wanted pizza or chinese for dinner. 

Damn. 

But, alls well that ends well. We have the best pizza anywhere here in Vicksburg, and I actually ate two whole slices, which for me of late is just an insane amount. We played a rousing game of Kingsburg, mom and I made sewing project plans for while I'm here, and then we spent 15 minutes crankily arguing about how we were going to allot our time for the next few weeks. I made brownies and ice cream for everyone, and now we're all headed to dreamland. Well, they are, I'm still trying to wrestle my body into obedience, which is why I'm up typing away at this. 

Speaking of allotting time, we'll be going to the cabin Up North for a week on the 4th, so expect my updates to be sporadic for a while, and I might not be available on messenger. I'll make sure everyone knows I'm not dead though, and I'll take lots of pictures. 

I miss you guys. I wish I could have brought you all with me. We need Star Trek transporters, stat.

Good night my friends. Dean out.

It's a dangerous business, stepping out your front door...

Once upon a time, some madness possessed me to move out to the West Coast. Today I'm flying back home to Michigan for a solid month of family, friends, shenanigans, and at least one inebriated revel (bringing my life total for events of drunken debauchery up to, oh, maybe 5). But I wouldn't want to leave those of you staying back west fretting over my pretty little head wondering what sort of trouble the resident Gryffindor was up to and whether or not it was time to rescue me, so I decided to set up this blog to keep you appraised of my movements in the next four glorious weeks of not-being-at-work. Also, this is just a hell of a lot easier than answering the same questions over and over again when I re-surface on Facebook for any length of time.

Speaking of which.

Be advised that while I am gone I will not answer my cell phone or answer texts, reason being that it is outrageously expensive and I am well on my way to thousands of dollars of student loans. So, y'know, don't text me. If you DO want to message me, get on Facebook messenger - as long as I'm in wifi it goes straight to my phone for free, just like a text. I'll also arrange to be on Skype from time to time.

Drea, just get a damned cell phone already.



So without further ado- and just because it will make my baes go squee-

The Road So Far

It's may be not such a bad thing that the cat ran away- I'm just glad that Drea victim-teered to feed the fish while I'm gone. I do shudder to think the hooliganism that might well ensue while I allow Drea, Nat and Addi the run of my apartment as the Hogwarts clubhouse (sans a Slytherin). I know that I'll be coming home to a lovely, safe space full of unbroken furniture, neatly stacked boardgames and not-ready-to-kill-me landlords. Right guys?

The only innocent face in this picture belongs to Ashten.

THINGS I ACCOMPLISHED BEFORE I LEFT

Student loan applications
Cleaning out the fridge
EI application
Washing all the dishes
School applications
Sweeping the floors
Laundry
Packing
Taking out ALL the garbage
Generally being a responsible adult


THINGS I DID NOT ACCOMPLISH BEFORE I LEFT

Eating the last of the watermelon in the fridge
Cleaning my room
Selling my car
Watering the only plant I own (but I've kept it alive since February, can we all be very impressed?)
Sorting out my work situation when I return from Michigan
Sorting out RRSP's
Discovering the meaning of life
Curing the common cold
Making the illusion that I am a generally responsible adult any sort of a concrete truth in my existence

Oh, and I left my night light in. Someone want to get that for me?

Michael was gracious enough to get up stupidly early to drive me to the Victoria airport at an ungodly early hour. I enjoyed my last delicious taste of true Canadiana- a Timmies run- before wading through security behind an estranged east indian couple and a rather large and obnoxious family of what were clearly vacation bound Americans, as evidenced by their gape mouthed awe of all things Canadian and general confusion regarding coinage. I was lucky enough to be seated on the small jumper plane next to a very friendly fellow by the name of Matthew MacAllister, who in a not so strange twist of fate happened to be a high school friend of Nat and Drea. We spent a pleasant hour chatting about basically everything and swore a blood bond of friendship before departing. That's a lie, I just added him on Facebook. But he really was lovely.

Everything went very smoothly from there until I suffered this tremendous and almost world shattering injury:

Also a lie. It wasn't world shattering. It did bleed profusely however, and a small host of well meaning elderly women searched their purses for a bandage. Through their kind concern I covered my affliction with a proffered band-aid, and was able to nap open mouthed and snoring for the remainder of the flight.

Might I just mention- Canadian airports offer no strings attached complimentary wifi. Screw you and your games, Chicago O'Hare. The place where I only get 20 friggin minutes...sigh.

However, look at all the people!

Does my little extrovert heart good. Ahh, humanity.

But, no trip home is complete without a maddening flight delay, and my 3 hour layover in Chicago is now a 6 hour layover. So now I am sitting, wrapping up my blog post at a charging station in Chi-town. I wish there was more to tell you; I wish there was more to say; I wish there were more words to say the things I can say in.

A philosophical thought before I go.

A man in a business suit, shoes newly shined, clothing immaculate, fine leather briefcase by his side. I pass him on my journey down the concourse. He is reading a James Patterson novel, also immaculate, probably brand new. It is a work of fiction set in a world that relates as closely as possible to our own, hardly fiction at all. The man seems unsmiling, the senior accountant sort, yet his book is nearly finished. Why would he trouble himself with a story? What is he seeking in a bit of literary trickery in the lives of people who never existed? What demons does he seek to exorcise vicariously through the bitter lives of embattled imaginary allies? Why do we need stories so very much?

Why do we make art?

Why do we question these things at all?

The universe WILL implode.

What else is there to do but sing it's songs as it does so?

18 hours of travel. Time to sleep.

More tomorrow!